Rock Around the Clock
by Werepuppy Black
Summary: A collection of unrelated We Will Rock You one-shots
1. The Dreamer

**The Dreamer**

His title. His role. His job. The words "The Dreamer" is all of these things and more to him. Since before he was born, he has been the Dreamer. He will continue to be the Dreamer after his death. He will be the Dreamer forever and always. It is his legacy.

He will be known as the ultimate rebel. Dreaming of the illegal things. Knowing about them without knowing how, or deliberating setting out to do so. The destroyer of the Killer Queen. The rebel. The rock star. The Dreamer. The boy. The man?

For, in essence, that is what he is. Still a boy. Not even 20 years old yet. Oh, but he has seen so much. Been through so much. Lost so much. He has experienced things which some people do not experience till they are older. And things that some people may never ever experience in their lives. But he has survived it all. The Dreamer…that is his title. But not his name. Not his identity.

He is Galileo Figaro. A boy who had dreams. A boy who was the outcast the moment he arrived on this rock. A boy whose life had been planned out for him many years ago. A life which he could not fight against. A life which he tried to end.

But he did not succeed. He lived through all harm. He lived and loved. He met the other whose life was planned out. He fell in love. He loved for all his life. And was loved in return. Nothing could destroy that bond. Nothing.

Galileo Figaro is still just a boy. He is still just one man. He is a rock star. He is a rebel. He is the destroyer of the Killer Queen. He is loved. But above all these things, he is the Dreamer.

And he will remain the Dreamer forever.


	2. Hey Teacher! Leave the Kids Alone!

**Hey Teacher! Leave Those Kids Alone**

Hey there! I'm the Teacher. Oh, you want to know my name? Well, I don't really have an official name. Maybe I did once in my life but it has been long out of use. I'm just known as 'the Teacher'. I am the senior teacher at the Virtual High London area branch number /beta/a.864.4. It is the best in the British Isles. How cool is that?

Today was graduation day for this year's senior class's worldwide. As usual all the school participated. It is so great to see all these kids have all this school spirit. So uplifting

This year's graduation colour was white. As usual all kids came in wearing the super cool GaGa label. All approved by the Killer Queen. And we all know how great she is!

It was as a mark of respect to our great leader that all the kids proclaimed the Globalsoft oath. Now, here's a little secret, us teachers all love the oath, and we can't help joining in proclaiming it. It's just the coolest thing ever!

After the oath was done it was my job to speak to the students. What an honour! "Hey kids, school's out! It's summer time. Get out there and have some fun!" I told them. The kids look overjoyed to hear that. It was touching.

"That is so cool! Alright!" they cried joyously. It makes my day to see I've made the kids so happy. It was then that I noticed a boy. www/ GordontheJones's .com. A new student to the school, but in the graduating year. He'd been moved here just a few weeks ago. We all welcomed him as we should. He had actually turned out to be one of the top scoring pupils in the year. If that boy could concentrate a bit more he'd be reaching the top areas of Globalsoft in no time!

"Hey You!" he called to the kids. They all turned to face him. I stayed over at the columns, not sure exactly what I was to do. I noticed that Gordon wasn't wearing the approve graduation colour. He wasn't wearing anything by the GaGa label. Oh no!

"Yeah! What?" the kids asked Gordon as one. It so cool to see that our kids are so in tune with each other. It's one of the reason that's there's no war anymore. Not one single inter-planet war.

"You're all clones! GaGa sheep!" he yelled. Now that wasn't nice. Luckily it didn't seem to hurt the kids so much.

"Talk to the hand!" they clicked their fingers at him and walked off. As they walked by him, Gordon turned round to try to speak to the m all at once. Poor boy, he looked desperate.

"Fools…Morons…Don't You understand you're all slaves?" he seemed to be pleading with the kids now. I can't say I'm happy with what they did next.

"Whatever, loser!" They looked down their noses at him. I thought they had learned that people who try to turn you against the super cool Killer Queen were to be pitied. It was sad to see them not remember that.

"Hey mate, come on, go celebrate! Your life is just beginning." I went over to him. I was trying to cheer him up. He could do so much if he would just be like the others! Gordon didn't seem to appreciate me trying though.

"Good! The s-sooner it begins the s-sooner its o-ver with." He stuttered at me. He's had a problem with that stutter since he started here. But gosh darn it the boy doesn't seem to want the help to get rid of it.

"But you have so much potential. You could get a job with any division of Globalsoft you choose." I enthused toward him. Surely he knew what cool job possibilities awaited him. I paused thinking.

"How about music programming?" I asked him. I'll admit it; I had a wide grin on my face. Who wouldn't want the chance to join the music programming department of Globalsoft? It was the coolest department there was! Everyone knew it.

"I don't; want to program music. I want to make music. REAL music. My own music." Gordon glared at me. It reminded of me of another pupil. A girl. What he had said scared me though. It was not right. No-one made music! It's unheard of! I looked around m quickly and pulled Gordon off to the side

"Hey! Mate, cool it. Now listen www/ GordontheJones's .com" I began. Gordon winced at being called by his name. How odd

"My name is Galileo Figaro." He interrupted me. Galileo Figaro? I would have laughed. But you know what? I didn't. Because this boy obviously need help. I was going to make sure he got it

"Nobody is called Galileo Figaro. Where on Planet Mall did you come up with that?" I asked him. He seemed confused again. He looked around himself.

"I found it, In a dream. I have dreams you see. And I hear noises, screeching, thudding, b-banging noises. And words, words drop into my head, too many words. Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody!" He had grabbed on to me while saying this. Not really cool. I gently shrugged him off me.

"I understand. I feel your pain. But come on mate! You live in a perfect world. What more could you possibly want?" I asked him. This boy needed help and I was going to make sure he got it. I looked around triumphantly. There was nothing he could say to me. What more could a kid want? The world was perfect

"I want to break free" I hear him say. I turned and stared

"What?" I asked completely confused.

"I want to break free." He was grabbing my shoulders again. Again, not cool. This boy needs to learn about personal space. Gordon looked terrified though. What was scaring him so much?

"I want to break from your lies, you're so self-satisfied. I don't need you. I've got to break free. God knows. God knows I want to break free." I was pushed back at this. I was angry. He had just assaulted me! And all I was trying to do was help him.

"You don't need me?" I asked. "I'll make you need me" I threaten, trying to get him to stop his madness. I walked up to the columns again and typed in a code. Gordon was still talking. To no-one. To…the world in general? Who knew what went on in his head? He was saying how he has fallen in love. I laughed. Gordon has no friends. How could he have 'fallen in love'?

"Teacher, I got your email." A voice said. I turned. It was Commander Khashoggi. I smiled at him. It was nice to see the face of law and order responding so quickly. Like I said, I was going to make sure Gordon got the help he needed.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked me. I shook my head and sighed.

"Its one of my pupils. He wants to make his own music." I told him. Khashoggi jumped at what I had said.

"Take me to him" and so I did. Gordon was frozen in a laser cage while I talked to the commander.

"You say this boy wants to make his own music?" Khashoggi asked me. I nodded curtly. There was no time for idle chit chat. This was a time for the serious business. One of the graduating year groups was showing dangerous signs. He needed help.

"Yes. The little freak says he hears it in his dreams." I told Khashoggi. I folded my arms over my chest and glared at Gordon. In less than an hour he had assaulted a teacher twice and showed signs of rebel behaviour. I had changed my mind. This boy didn't need help, he needed locking up!

"And he is aware that music other than that programmed by the Globalsoft corporation is illegal? The act of an individual?" Khashoggi asked me. I nodded quickly. I had made sure all the pupils knew the law.

"Of course - but he doesn't care." I complained. I felt quiet insulted that he seemed to think I hadn't taught the pupils the law.

"Has he ever tried to make a musical instrument?" I search my memory. It had happened just a few weeks ago. I had told about it.

"Once, in technical studies. He was caught trying to stretch plastic string across an empty lunchbox." I shook my head both angrily and sadly. Why did Gordon want to disobey the Killer Queen? It just didn't make sense. I'm just so very glad we teachers put in that work to keep him and a certain girl apart

"Did he….pluck it?" Khashoggi asked me, looking coldly at Gordon. I felt no sympathy for the boy. Not anymore. He had made his bed and now it was time to lie in it

"Yes, but claims he didn't know why." I shook my head again. Gordon had come out with weak excuse after weak excuse. Why did we let him away with it?

"I think I shall have to talk to this boy." Khashoggi pressed a button on his wristWAP and the cage disappeared and Gordon was unfrozen. He looked at us in shock.

"Hey who are you man?" he panic. Some of the other officers pulled him away

"Let me go!" he yelled. Not a chance. I turned to watch him being taken away.

"Goodbye 'mate'. Ha-ha." I turned back to Khashoggi. I felt like I had to tell him about the other.

"Are there any other potential Bohemians in this year's graduation group, or is he the only one?" he asked me. I shook my head sadly this time.

"I'm sorry to have to report that there is one other. A repulsive creature - a girl." As I spoke the girl barged through one of the doors. She looked unkempt. And tired. And dirty compared with the others GaGa girls. She didn't noticed us. This was the girl we had managed to keep apart from Gordon. If they had met, well, they could have egged each other on, made them stay in that dangerous rebel state.

"Thank you Teacher. You may go now. Enjoy your holiday." Khashoggi said to me. I turned and walked towards my hover-mobile. I couldn't help but wonder what would happen to Gordon and to the girl; I think her name was…Sally Jane. What would happen to them? I decided that anything they got would be too good for them. After all, they hated the Killer Queen. And this perfect world. They lived in a brilliant age, where there were no wars and everyone was healthy and all debts were wiped out. What more could they possibly want?


	3. Watching, Waiting

**Watching, Waiting**

"Where is she?" the Dreamer muttered to himself looking in and out of different rooms. He passed another room and looked in, then remembered that he had searched this room before already. He turned round and ran his hand through his hair, intentionally messing it up. "So where is she?" he muttered again to himself. He decided to go back to their room, hoping that she'd be in there now.

Scaramouche was in their room. Sitting in the bed to be precise. With a white stick in her hand. Galileo walked in and smiled. "Hey Scara I've been looking for you. I was wondering if…" he trailed off after seeing the white stick his girlfriend was holding. He frowned at it. He didn't know what it was.

"Erm…Scaramouche?" he began looking down at the stick. Scaramouche looked up.

"Yeah Gaz?" she said, glancing down at the stick in her hand quite a lot. Galileo moved over and sat beside her, worried in case something was wrong.

"What that?" he asked pointing vaguely at the stick. Scaramouche frowned. He couldn't be serious. Surely he had to know what she was holding. Obviously not if the blank look on his face was anything to go by. Scaramouche sighed. It was always left to her to explain this sort of stuff to Galileo.

"This is what we big people call a pregnancy test. Do you know what pregnancy is Gazza?" she rolled her eyes as she spoke. It was hard to believe that he could be this naïve sometimes.

"Of course I know what pregnancy is Scaramouche. But why have you got a…OH!" he said as he realised what Scaramouche was telling him. "But you're not? You can't be…Are you?" he asked looking very worried.

"No. I mean, I don't know. That's why I have this test." Scaramouche sighed. Galileo sighed and leaned back slightly, taking in the news. He leaned forward again

"So, you could be. And if you are that means I'm gonna be a dad." He mused out loud. Scaramouche looked over at him.

"No Gaz, you're gonna be the kids mum. Of course you'll be a dad!" she snapped at him. His face declared his hurt and he began looking at the ground. Scaramouche groaned inwardly. "Gaz I'm sorry. It's just, I don't know if I'm ready to be a mum. Or if either of us are ready t be parents for that matter." Galileo looked at Scaramouche's face and pushed back a strand of hair that was hanging in her eyes.

"I don't think we'll ever be READY Scara." He sat bolt upright. "I mean god, we're just a couple of kids ourselves. And we can only just take care of ourselves." He pointed out.

"I know that Gaz! Why do you think I'm so worried?" She began then realised something, "You don't think you'll ever be ready?" she asked. "What? You mean you'll never have kids? You don't want them? Well," she laughed bitterly, "if this turns out to be positive you're really stuck aren't you?"

For some reason that she didn't quite understand Scaramouche felt hurt and upset. It seemed to her that Galileo didn't want to have kids…or their kid; if it turned out she was pregnant.

"Scara! No how can you say that!" Galileo retorted. "Of course I want kids one day! I want US to have kids one day." He stopped and sighed, pushing back some of his hair that was flopping down in his eyes, "Damn it as long as it's with you I want kids. I just feel like right now, I'd be a crap dad. I mean I'm 19 Scara! I can only just look after myself. I pity any kid that'll have me for a dad."

Scaramouche softened. She moved slightly so she was sitting nearer Galileo. "You wouldn't be a crap dad. You'd be a great dad." She told him. Galileo smiled at her.

"Yeah, well you'd be a fantastic mum. And please don't argue that!" he joked. Scaramouche relented and gave a small smile.

"Gaz, if it is positive…" she started slowly. Galileo looked and waited for her to continue. "If it is positive, I'm gonna have this kid. But… It's just that I'm scared that it will be positive. Gaz, you're right okay? At this moment in time, well to be honest it isn't the best time to have a kid is it?" She finished. Galileo nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I know babe. But if it's positive there's only two choices. And I know we wouldn't go for one of them so it's not like there's a lot we can do. We'll raise the kid and do our best o keep it safe. Yeah right now it might not be safe, but there's nothing to say it might not be better in the future." Scaramouche smiled warmly at him.

"How is it you always know the right thing to say to make me feel better?" She asked. Galileo smiled and shrugged.

"Special talent?"

"Well whatever it is I'm glad of it" she laughed. She took another glance down at the stick. There was still nothing, but only ten minutes had passed. The box had said to wait for 15. She looked back up at Galileo who was watching her intently. A sudden fear clutched at her heart. What if he left? What if he went off with one of the leggy girls who called themselves his fan club?

"Hey, Scara?" Galileo said softly. Scaramouche looked at him, caught by his eyes. They were looking right at hers. "I'm not gonna leave you. You're stuck with me Miss Mouche." He had done it again. She couldn't hide around him.

"You're scary when you look all through me like that." She told him. Galileo's smile turned into a playful smirk.

"Handy to know…might be able to shut you up long enough to let the kid get some sleep." He joked, not really thinking about what he was saying. Scaramouche laughed nervously at the joke. Galileo himself grinned sheepishly. "Looks like I'm getting used to the idea of being a dad." He apologised with a shrug. Scaramouche smiled, she was getting used to the idea herself.

"Ditto Fizza, I'm still terrified though." She told him bluntly. Galileo's smile fell.

"I'm the same." Scaramouche fiddled with a strand of her hair.

"Gaz…is it wrong for me to kinda want this to be negative?" she asked, feeling as though she was committing a major sin by revealing her secret. Galileo shook his head.

"It's not wrong." He told her simply. They sat in silence for another few minutes.

"What time is it Gaz?" she asked him, forcing the words out. Galileo looked down at his watch.

"Erm…twenty past. Why?" he asked. Scaramouche took a deep breath and looked down at the test. It shone back the result to her. In black and white. There was no escaping it.

"Scaramouche?" Galileo asked. "What's the result?" She was silent for a few minutes. She just sat and stared at the test.

"Erm…" she coughed, to try to get her throat working again, "…it's…its negative." She told him. They sat for another few minutes, both taking in the news.

"Isn't that what we wanted?" Galileo spoke finally, breaking the silence. He turned and faced Scaramouche. She sat and said nothing. Galileo frowned. "Scaramouche? Isn't that what we wanted?" he repeated his question. Scaramouche looked up from the test. Her face conveyed her confusion.

"I'm not sure…"


	4. Bad Reputation

**Bad Reputation**

Meat Loaf. Her name. Her true name. Suits her a hell of a lot better than her old name did. Hell nothing about her pre-Bohemia life suited her. That time was a deep dank pit that she would rather forget forever than go back to.

But of course she can't. Not like she cares anyway. If she were to sit for long enough and actually think about it, she'd probably admit that she wouldn't wipe the memories of her past. They made her who she is today. Her past made her tough, and full of life. Why would she want to be any different than that? Being a Bohemian is about being content in who you are, about being able to accept differences. Being able to accept that the past is the past and that you should live each day like it's your last. No regrets, just good times.

Her past was as much a part of her as her present was.

It's not like her past was all the bad really. Youngest child in a working class family. Only girl actually. Given the name www / Jennifer the Thompson's . co. uk, she was considered the rose of the family. The one who would go on to grand designs and make them all proud. Her mum had left her dad when she was very small, for an old boyfriend who had gone on to be very, very prosperous. Meat had never quite forgiven her mum for that. Her dad wasn't a bad husband or father. He earned a decent wage through being, what was once referred to as a, plumber. It wasn't the cleanest or most desirable of jobs on Planet Mall but Meat could remember her dad often telling her that he liked fixing things with his hands, as it made him feel a little more comfortable in this high-tech world.

Meat only worked out that her dad was partly Bohemian when it was too late for her to do anything to help him. He had succumbed to Alzheimer's. Meat couldn't help but wonder if that was really the truth. She had heard theories that Alzheimer's was something that you inherited. But no-one else in her family had ever had it before, and no-one but her dad had it then.

She had four older brothers, all very protective of their little sister. There was a time when she couldn't go anywhere on her own without having one of her brothers trailing after her. It was sweet she supposed, but it annoyed her at the time. The brother who was nearest in age to her was Alex. He was two years older than her but she was closest to him. It was Alex who had helped her to escape when the Secret Police came looking for her. It was Alex who had helped her to find the other Bohemians and had promised her that he wouldn't betray her, that he would keep her whereabouts a secret.

It was Alex who had been killed making sure he kept his promise.

Only the good die young, that was true in Meat's life. Alex had only been 20 years old when he died, and he had a lot left to live for. She had felt guilty about his death, and still did. But she couldn't look back. She knew that he wouldn't have wanted that. All he had wanted for her was to be happy and live her life the way she wanted to. He couldn't convert to Bohemia, he was too scared to, and always insisted that someone needed to look after their dad, but he was a Bohemian in spirit. Just like her dad. Just like her.

God she missed them.

Her eldest brother had been the one to turn her in. Robert, that was his name, had worried that his 'freak' of a sister would ruin his chances for promotion in his job. He had turned her in so that he could 'better' himself. Last she had heard, his plan had worked. But then the news the Bohemians managed to get wasn't always accurate. A lot of it was tailored in the hopes that it would help capture them, and get rid of them permanently. So she was unsure as to the current status of Robert. But she didn't care. Meat rarely said she hated someone, she didn't believe in it. But she did hate Robert. Perhaps for selfish reasons, perhaps not. But she did hate him.

Mind you, if it wasn't for Robert reporting her, Alex wouldn't have needed to help her find the other Bohemians. And she would have never have met Brit.

Britney Spears. The biggest, baddest, meanest, nastiest, most raging, rapping, rock'n'roll, sick, punk , heavy metal, psycho bastard that ever got get down funky. And most importantly, hers.

But he'd been killed.

The two people she had been closest too had died. Some might begin to think she was cursed. Meat didn't know what to think. Brit had been her rock in a way that she had never expected, and then he was just...gone. Never to come back. She didn't like to think about it. It hurt too much to. She loved him. She could never love someone as much as she loved him. And that didn't even begin to cover it.

Meat would often force her mind away from the thoughts that hurt. No day but today, no past, no future, only the here and now so don't you have any regrets.

It kept her alive.


	5. The World of the Fashion Victims

**The World of the Fashion Victims**

'_Fashion victims, that's all these people are,' _thought Galileo as he sat in the bushes he had staked out as his own hiding space. He wasn't a fashion victim, he was sure of that. He hated fashion so how could he be a fashion victim? He fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt slightly. Yes, at one point it had been a fashionable shirt, but it wasn't anymore. He had been the one to make sure of that. He pulled moodily at some threads dangling at the shoulders from where he had literally ripped the long sleeves off. He wasn't a fan of sleeves. He let out a short breath and peaked out from his hiding spot to see if the zone clones were still hunting him. If it had only been one on one then, he mused, he might have had a good chance of winning in a fight. He did have some strength to him, even though it didn't look like it. Unfortunately, it was five against one. Anyone could have worked out that it was unfair odds. He moved back as quietly as he could, watching as a pair of feet passed his hiding space.

"I can't see the freak anywhere," one voice said.

"Just leave it. All this searching is ruining my VR football boots and I just downloaded them," another voice complained. The pair walked away. Galileo sighed deeply. _'Fashion victims,'_ he thought again, slowly making his way out from the bush trying not to make noise.

Galileo wasn't a believer in fashion. He assumed, correctly, that it was just another way Globalsoft, the company in charge of Planet Mall, to control the minds of the 'normal' people. Nine times out of ten, Globalsoft succeeded. However, there was always that tricky one time. Like Galileo. Even though he lived amongst the 'normal' people, he was completely alone. Isolated from the rest of them. Shunned at every turning. It didn't bother Galileo though; he was used to it by now.

Galileo began to make his way home. _'Even though I'm not welcome there,' _his mind pointed out. He looked around himself carefully just to make sure that the zone clones weren't still there, just waiting for him to come out of hiding. He couldn't seem them anywhere so assumed he was safe from them. He did see a bunch of Teen Queens however. Teen Queens were the royalty of the GaGa girls, the most popular and the most fashionable. He hated them. These Teen Queens were surrounding someone, jeering at them. Galileo couldn't really make out the person but he assumed it was a girl. Zone clones only attacked other boys, and Teen Queens only attacked other girls. It was a way of the world.

The girl was wearing...well Galileo supposed it was a dress. It was highly different from the outfits that the Teen Queens wore. It was black for one thing, a colour never worn by GaGa girls unless at a funeral, and it wasn't fitted. It was baggy and drab by GaGa standards. He liked it. He felt himself wanting to go over to this girl, to talk to her. He also didn't want to talk to her at the same time. He didn't want to go over there as if he did he would be surrounded by fashion victims, and he was trying to avoid them right now. He hoped that this girl was like him - not a fashion victim. He smiled softly as he heard he yell at the Teen Queens, something that no fashion victim would do. She wasn't a fashion victim, and she wasn't any other sort of victim either.

When it came to the status of the fashion victims, Galileo supposed that the celebrities have a part to play in it. They had a part to play in everything. Nothing became popular unless it was endorsed by a big name celebrity. It was the way that Planet Mall worked. He really hated it. It was one of the reasons as to why he was isolated. He didn't like one single celebrity that other people his age admired. 'Freak' was the general insult thrown at him when this was discovered by people. He was so used to hearing it that the word had lost all effect and meaning. It was one of the less colourful insults anyway.

As he slowly made his way home on the darkening streets, Galileo pondered over the lessons of his life's insanity. "Take good care of what you've got," his father had always told him. Right before he upped sticks, left his mother, and moved in with a younger model of her. As much as he didn't like his mother, and her ideals, Galileo didn't think it was fair what his father did to her. It was assumed that it was part of the reason why she died. Of a broken heart. In that sense Galileo was more practical. The fashion victims came up with fashionable reasons to death. He saw it simply - she was dead, deal with that fact and move on.

He walked silently through the dark and peaceful streets. Night time was his favourite time of day. One of the few times he didn't feel anxious that today would be the day that he died, or that his dreams would be discovered. At night time, he allowed his thoughts to wash over him, letting them cover him. Tonight his thoughts were solely on the fashion victims. Despite the fact that he was the more likely pity case, all of his pity went toward them.

His father had been sucked right into the fashion victims' ideas. That's what made him leave his mother. Well that and the shame it was of having a freak for a son but that was beside the point. His father agreed with the belief that the younger your wife was the more important and impressive you seemed. It was a general belief. Galileo again didn't really go in for this type of belief. He believe that trading in your partner for a 'younger model' just made the person seem desperate to hang on to their youth. Another thought which isolated him in this image obsessed world.

But why was this world so fashion obsessed? Galileo didn't really understand it. Surely there was more to life than label you were wearing? He really didn't understand it, and doubted he ever would. Perhaps it just happened to be one of life's unanswerable questions. Who knew? He certainly didn't. Perhaps if he did, he wouldn't ask so many questions, and dream so many dreams. He still didn't understand why people were so obsessed with fashion and image though. He supposed that if he did understand it, he would fit in, be 'normal.' But did he really want that? To fit in? To be normal? Did he want to be...boring?

No. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to try to fit back into society. He had lived outside of it for so long. To bring himself back into it, he couldn't even being to imagine what that would be like, and Galileo had a very vivid imagination - didn't his dreams prove that much at least? Acting like the rest of the GaGa's, it was a foreign thought to him. He knew that his dreams, being the way that he was, was a disgrace to his family but he couldn't help it. He couldn't see himself acting like the rest of the clones, being just one of the crowd. He couldn't do it. He would remain isolated forever. A dark figure in this world of the white. He accepted it.

Galileo stopped outside of the 'care' home he was staying in after being disowned and transferred out here. He noted that he always seem to reach this building faster at night time, when the streets were deserted. He sat down of the front steps, reluctant to go inside, and stared out at the world. He thought about his dreams. The people in them didn't seem like fashion victims, or obsessed with their images. They didn't even wear anything that would be considered fashion in this Globalsoft era. They were all different, all individuals. Galileo wondered what it would have been like back then. To live in a time where it was okay to be different. As vivid as his imagination was, it could not seem to comprehend a fashion victimless world. He sighed sadly and stood up. Silently he opened the door and went inside.

Tomorrow was yet another day in this happy, clappy, 'perfect' world.

And it was yet another day to be faced by fashion victims.


	6. Lover Turns to Hater

**Lover Turns to Hater**

Pop reasoned that there had to be something going on with the kid and the astral babe. They argued too much for it just to be simple annoyance with each other. Why would they have stuck together so long, and it did seem like it had been a while from the arguments getting dredged up, if all they felt was hatred towards one another?

He may give off the appearance of being a drunk, but Pop was actually very aware of all that was going on around him. He hadn't just become the keeper of the secret histories by chance. He had studied hard to become a historian and had come out of the studies with the highest grades in a long while. He had become an expert at looking through the histories, and almost an expert in reading people. And for what he read from these two kids...there was something going on.

There just had to be

He noticed the glances between them, the apparent need to outdo each other, the small grins they gave. He noticed that they made sure they were always in sight of each other. Even though all they did was argue, he was sure there was more to it.

And he was confirmed, in an odd way, when they were getting on his precious bike. There weren't that many Harley's left on Planet Mall, and Pop took deep pride in his. He had joking remarked about the chick sitting behind him. Of course, the chick didn't take it as a joke. Neither did the Dreamer. Pop looked confused as the kid glared, his hand loosely curled into a fist. Could it be that the kid and the babe had been...something? That had to be it. They had something, and something went wrong, leading to the hate.

Of course the babe didn't want to risk Pop trying anything when she was sitting in front of him. Something which offended him as he wasn't going to try anything. The push the bone line was only that - a line. If anything the glare had let him know that the babe was spoken for. The vibes he was getting from the kid on the way to the old arena only cemented the idea further. They were a mixture of 'she's mine' and 'touch her you die.' Both of which make Pop smiled softly. He had been a Bohemian once, he knew that the Dreamer had to have _his_ bad-arsed babe and he supposed that the babe was it. It would make sense.

Only thing that didn't make sense was why they weren't happy.

It did make sense later though. The kid had done something wrong. And he admitted it. Pop hadn't seen that one coming...


	7. Who Made Who?

**Who Made Who?**

He had never expected to be here. Of all the places in Planet Mall that he knew of, he never expected that this place would become his home. Of course, he realised that he had to tread carefully here, that just upsetting one person would have him thrown out. But for now he was welcome and given a place to rest. That was enough. Yes, it was true that at one point in his life, he had assumed that by now he would by living in the exclusive sectors of the global shopping precinct, but if there was one thing that he had learned in his role as Commander of the Secret Police it was that the best laid plans of mice and men often fell through.

"Hey dude," a bottle was placed down in front of him as the young Dreamer joined his table. "Saw you over here looking all mopey and Scara said I should find out what's wrong." Galileo shrugged lightly. "Not sure why she cares as such, but I've learned not to argue with her...much" he added thoughtfully. "So yeah. Brought you a drink" he pointed to the bottle.

"Thank you" Khashoggi politely told Galileo. "And I do not mope, I brood."

"Same thing isn't it?" he asked, leaning back on his chair, feet resting on the edge of the table. "Moping and brooding I mean."

"It is not the same thing; brood requires a great deal of thought. Moping is something that children do when denied what they request." Khashoggi explained to an extent. "And I am fine, thank you for enquiring." He picked up the bottle and took a drink. Beer. He wasn't much of a beer drinker, but from taste this particular brand of beer was not exactly awful.

"So, if you're fine, why are you brooding?" Galileo looked at the ex-Commander, a slight frown on his face.

"I was...contemplating on my life at this moment in its span." Khashoggi told Galileo, after a moment's thought.

"Huh?"

"I had never pictured myself to be sitting in the home of the infamous Bohemians, Galileo." Khashoggi admitted. "It is odd to find myself here, sitting amongst people who I have indirectly and directly, tortured. It...is not something I imagined would happen to me."

There was a moment's pause. "Well, maybe some down here owe you their life." Galileo sounded out nervously. Khashoggi gave a dry laugh.

"Yes, I am sure that arresting and interrogating someone constitutes as saving their life. Really Galileo, as the Dreamer I would have thought you smarter than what you are." He remarked causally. "Out of interest, who is it that 'owes' me their life? I wish to have a word with them about their concept of saving one's life."

There was an awkward pause. "Erm...well...it...it's s-sorta me."Galileo admitted, scratching at his wrist absent-mindly.

"Galileo, why ever would you think that you owed your life to me?" Khashoggi asked, feeling some small spot of concern towards the Dreamer. Had his life been so awful that being subjected to the quite frankly violent and terrifying interrogation techniques of the secret police had been a reprieve?

"Well...truth is, the day I was arrested, was originally gonna be the last day I was..erm...alive." Galileo muttered the ending of his sentence, his eyes darting to the ground.

"You mean to say.."

"Yeah, I was gonna...well. You know. I'd worked out a way to do it, a way to make it happen so fast no-one could stop me. And I was gonna do it. But I got arrested." Khashoggi looked over at the young Dreamer, only recently turned 18 if he could remember correctly from the records he had read up on him. He had never thought that the greatest threat, and yes it was true - the Dreamer had been the greatest threat, would have 'taken care' of itself if left alone. It was an unusual thought.

"Oh" was all that the Commander could think of to say to the revelation.

"Yeah..so...erm. There's your answer man. You're here 'cause I owe you. Thanks." And with that the Dreamer walked back towards his bad-arsed babe, and his friends, leaving Khashoggi with yet another thought to brood on.


	8. It's Too Late

**It's Too Late**

_**Reminder: Due to the recent Bohemian uprising at the Wembley ruins, all downloads are being strictly monitored. Please stick to official sites : 1st June 2312  
To: Gordon the Jones's . com  
From: Gordon James the Jones's . com  
Subject: I want to arrange a meeting.**_

_**Gordon,**_

_**It's been a while since we last spoke, and that meeting ended on unpleasant terms. I know that I'm not your most favourite person in the world, but I am still your father, and I feel that we should meet more regularly.**_

_**I saw you on the news. You've been on it a lot lately. Going by that ridiculous name, Galileo Figaro. I had hoped you would have grown out of that by now. Unfortunately it seems my hopes are dashed. Even more so when I heard that you were the ringleader in the recent rebellion. Gordon, I know you like to act 'differently' but I didn't know you would do something so illegal. It's shaming.**_

_**Its part of the reason I've decided to contact you. Candy suggested that we meet up, try to clear the air between us, that a boy your age still needs his father and it would be good of me to approach you. So I am. **_

_**So you'll meet me tomorrow, that's the 2nd Gordon, at 19:00 hours, at the cyber-café just off Alpha 2?**_

_**E-mail back. **_

_**Your Father.**_

Galileo sat and stared at the computer screen, and he still wasn't sure why the Heartbreak had a computer, in shock. Gordon, Galileo could never called him 'dad', had chosen to email him. Gordon never willingly chose to speak to him. Galileo blinked once. Should he reply? Should he really agree to meet with the man who had sent him into care for the simple reason that he couldn't stand to look at his own son?

"Gaz?" He blinked again, turning his head. "Gaz you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost" Scaramouche commented, frowning at Galileo. There was no answer. "Gazza?" she tried again, knowing that Gaz wasn't always paying attention.

"He...he emailed me." Scaramouche frowned. That sentence made no sense to her whatsoever.

"Who emailed you Gaz?" Galileo turned and looked at her, a frown visible on his face.

"Gordon." That statement made Scaramouche frown. She knew that Galileo was originally called Gordon himself. So was he suggesting he emailed himself? She looked towards the screen which Galileo had thoughtfully turned to face her. Scanning quickly through the email, she realised that Galileo was speaking about his father. Who he seemed to be reluctant to call 'Dad.'

"So your dad emailed ya. He wants to meet up. You going?" The question seemed a tad redundant, but she still felt as though it needed to be asked. Galileo looked at the screen again.

"I don't know if I can Scara. I haven't seen Gordon since I turned 12. And that wasn't a meeting I'm happy with." he tapped nervously on the table. "It's...it's one of those things, you know? Call it issues, call it whatever. I just don't know if I can face the guy." Galileo turned to face Scaramouche again, his face twisted with a mixture of worry and confusion.

"Chris Gaz, what the hell did he do to you?" Scaramouche asked, looking at the Dreamer with an unfamiliar pang in her chest. Pity? She wasn't sure.

"It's not as bad as you think Scara, he just couldn't stand me" Galileo shrugged the statement off, it meant nothing, and to him it did meant nothing. He had lived with the knowledge that his father couldn't stand him all his life. He had grown used to it.

"Gaz, no offence, but that sounds pretty bad to me." Scaramouche looked at Galileo in disbelief over his casual tone. "At the least you migh' get an apology outta 'im."

"I highly doubt it Scara." Galileo laughed. "If I do go, and I'm not saying that I will, but if I do...will you come with me?"

Scaramouche looked down at Galileo, his face nervous, scared of meeting his father alone. She smiled softly. "Course I will Gazza."

**XXX**

And at 1900 hours the following evening, the Dreamer and the Guitar Babe found themselves sitting in a dark, dank, and dingy cyber-café, just off the Alpha 2 road. To put it simply, they weren't pleased.

"He's not gonna turn up, he never turns up, we should just go..." Galileo started for the fifth time within five minutes.

"Gazza, you start that again an' I'm walking out and leavin' you to it." Scaramouche snapped. Galileo fell quiet, staring at the white plastic table they had dragged seats to. "He'll show up. You'll make your peace. Then we can go." She nodded once. Galileo sighed.

"'Make my peace?' Never gonna happen." he muttered darkly. Scaramouche turned and looked, shocked at Galileo's depart from his usual optimism. She opened her mouth to ask what he meant but was cut off by another voice.

"Stop slouching Gordon, you look untidy" Scaramouche turned to see Gordon James walking briskly into the café, followed by a person that Scaramouche could only describe as a Teen Queen despite the fact that the woman was not a teenager. Clinging to her hand was a small child, a girl, dressed in the latest GaGa fashion.

Galileo stared.

"Gordon what have I told you about staring?" Gordon James snapped at his eldest son. Galileo turned at glared at his father.

"Not much really Gordon. Didn't have the chance to learn anything from you, or are we forgetting that you kicked me into a care home as soon as you could?" Galileo snapped at him. "And for the last time, it's Galileo Figaro. Not Gordon," Galileo scoffed, "I'm not that pathetic."

Scaramouche found herself staring yet again. Galileo never failed to surprise her. She had never that amount of scorn come from him, she had never heard that hatred come from him. She found herself turning to his father, wondering if she had made the right decision in coming here with Galileo.

"I refuse to call..."

"Right. Fine. See ya." Galileo began to stand up from the table.

"Gazza, sit your arse down now!" Scaramouche snapped. Galileo opened his mouth to snap a retort back at her but was cut off. "I don't want to hear it Gaz, just sit down now." Galileo sat down, slouching in his seat, scowling over at his father. "Now, you. Say what you have to say then we're going." Gordon smirked.

"You've got him well trained" he commented lightly, "he would never listen to a word I said."

"Oh I highly doubt that you arrogant prat." Scaramouche rolled her eyes. "Almost see where Gazza gets it from. Only he's not as bad as you."

"Excuse me..." began the elder teen queen.

"So Candy, he finally got a kid outta you? He a good father to her? Doubt it" Galileo spoke casually, looking outside the window, but there was malice in his tone.

"Daddy is good to me! He's the best daddy in the world" the girl piped up, glaring at her older half-brother. Galileo scoffed.

"You've got a lot to learn kid." Galileo told the girl

"My name is Suzie!" Suzie said, a proud smirk on her face. Scaramouche looked at her. Suzie...it was one of those sickeningly sweet names often favoured by those in the 'upper reaches' of society. Galileo sneered.

"'Suzie?' What the hell kinda name is..."

"Gaz!" Scaramouche spoke quickly, cutting off Galileo. "All of you actually, can you just cut the crap and get on with it!" She was bored now, and it was evident in her tone of voice. Galileo smiled, he could always count on Scaramouche to get right to the point.

Gordon James stared at the girl with his son. She seemed worse than him. He glanced at his own little girl, his good little girl, and prayed she wouldn't turn out to be like her brother. "I emailed my son as I wanted to see him."

"So there is a first time for everything" Galileo muttered. Scaramouche gave him a swift kick on the leg. He shut up.

"As I was saying, I wanted to see my eldest child, and to convince him to give up his rebellious ways." Gordon James finished. There was silence, apart from the popping of Candy's bubble gum.

"What did you just say?" Galileo asked, his brain not quite comprehending what his father had just said. "Gordon, you cannot be serious."

"You do not call me Go..." Gordon James began.

"He'll call you whatever he wants to call you, you bloody banker!" Scaramouche yelled at the man. "You cannot seriously believe that the minute you decide to re-appear in his life, he's gonna give up all his beliefs?! He's the DREAMER mate," she glared at him, "he was meant for this life."

"Meant for a life of running from the police? Living on what he can find? You stupid girl." Gordon James spat at Scaramouche. "Gordon can't even live in the normal world, he has not chance in your world of make believe." Scaramouche glared furiously at him.

"Don't call her stupid." Galileo spoke up, angry.

"What?"

"Don't call her stupid, 'cos she's not. She's smart. A helluva lot smarter than you. And she's right." He said, small smile on his face, "the rebel life? Gordon I was born for it." He stood up, Scaramouche following suite. "Just because you don't think I'm worth anymore than the crap underneath your shoe doesn't mean everyone shares your view." He walked towards the door, Scaramouche thankfully walking outside. Nodding once at Galileo she started back on the path towards the Heartbreak, allowing the Dreamer to give his father his passing remarks.

"Gordon..." Gordon James, for once, seemed lost for words, "I came today in the hopes of rebuilding our relationship. Don't you want that?"

"No, Gordon, I don't." Galileo answered frankly. He opened the door, standing for one minute longer. He turned back towards his father, to tell him once last thing before he left. "Don't you get it? It's too late."


	9. Let There Be

**Let There Be...**

"Mommy?" a small child piped up, "Mommy why is that boy dressed so weirdly?" The child pointed its hand to a boy, hidden in the little shadow that there was, only slightly visible. The mother did not answer her child; instead she gripped their hand and hurried them along. Wanting to be away from the shadowed figure.

The boy moved forward, paused, his whole body tensed, ready to spring. Not knowing why, not wanting to know why. Needing to feel ready. Something was coming, but he wasn't sure what. He could feel it. In his blood, in his bones, _'here come the drums, here come the drums.'_

He was mad. There was no other way to put it. From the day he was born till the day he would die, he was, and will be mad. Everyone told him that. _'The happiest day of my life, is the day that I die.'_ Morbid but true.

He walked forward, silent despite heavy boots. He had taught himself to walk quietly, to learn the art of stealth. At any rate, it was good for avoiding people. He walked along the slowly darkening streets, not picking up his pace, yet not slowing down. He had nowhere to be and no-one to get home to. _'From a mother's love is the son estranged.' _Yes, he supposed that was true.

He was...disowned was the word. His father couldn't stand the sight of him, and his mother was dead. He supposed she loved him, he had never been shown any sign of the love. However he could be wrong. How would he know? The drugs clouded his memory, took away his thoughts. _'Now the drugs don't work, they just make you worse.'_

He looked older than he was, or was he older than he looked? He could never remember which one it was. He knew the drugs had aged him, made him tired, and made him stutter. All for a tumour that never was, a reason for the words and sounds. Too long spent looking, and too many drugs given that never worked. He had stopped though, refused to take them. Spent his days shaking and shivering because of it. But he felt free. The words came, thick and fast, he welcomed them. _'I want it all and I want it now.' _He wasn't sure if he wanted it all. To have an answer to the riddle of his existence would be good. A reason of his being. He doubted he would find it.

He often dreamed, in his more fantastical dreams that he was meant to be somewhere, somewhere that wasn't here. _'I have often dreamed, of a far off place, where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me. Where the crowds would cheer, when they see my face, and voice keeps saying this is where you're meant to be.' _He knew these dreams were more nonsensical than the others, they were more a secret wish, a desire, but still they came. The drums. Pounding in his head.

This world didn't want him here. It wanted him gone. He...wasn't sure. Some days he wanted to be gone...others..._ 'Let me live.'_ His mind wouldn't allow him to make a simple decision. _'It's a long hard struggle,'_ the voices who spoke to him wanted him to live. Wanted him to...to do something. He didn't know what.

'_Let there be...let there be...let there be rock.' _


	10. Let Me Live

**Let Me Live**

Day was bright. And white. Too bright and too white. Everywhere he looked, too bright and too white and too clean. Sterile that was the word. Never a mark, never a stain, never a single thing of out place.

This was nothing like day. It was bright yes that was true. But there was colour, and marks, and stains. It wasn't all white. It was comforting.

It scared him.

"Where am I?" his voice floated in the air, he could see the words in front of him, hovering in the air, sparkling with colour. He reached his hand out, wanting to feel the words. They glided over his hands, with a smooth feeling, completely different from the cold, harsh plastic he was used to. The words faded after being touched, gone from his sight, but he was sure not gone forever.

"_This could be heaven...this could be heaven for everyone,"_ it was his mind playing tricks on him again, at least so he thought. It was stated loudly, and clearly, with a...rhythm to it. Nothing like the GaGa rhythms, something new, something exciting. He continued to walk, letting the words wash over him, a refreshing feeling now he had peace to contemplate it.

"Am I dead?" It was his wish, his fear.

"Yes. Well technically yes, but I expect you'll be going back in a minute or two," a kind voice spoke to him. He turned, looking for the source of the voice. He spun around once, twice, "Now stop that or you'll get very dizzy." He stopped.

"Who are you?" He questioned, not scared of this voice, no not scared. But wondering. Who did the voice belong to, why was this person being so kind to him?

"Lover of life, singer of songs," the voice answered. He frowned, no-one sang. And who apart from the clones loved life? His life was nothing to love, nothing to even like. "Oh come on, don't be so morbid, thing's can only get better after all."

He turned again, looking finally above him, to where he supposed the voice was coming from. "H-how do you know that?" he asked. His life so far had shown nothing but badness, how could it get better from this?

"I know all about you, and I know that you've had it bad, it's been a hard day's night..."

"...and I've been working like a dog," he added. His shoulder's sunk. His hopes deflated. "Who am I?" he asked. His name didn't fit him, his name wasn't him. His name said he was normal, plain and boring. He wasn't.

"Galileo Figaro. Magnificio," the voice had a light, pleasant tone of humour in its speech, the type of humour that made everyone feel better, and put no-one down. He found himself smiling despite it all. "Do you want to die?"

He frowned, why ask him that? Hadn't he proved he wanted to die? He looked upwards again; staring at the point the voice seemed clearest. He didn't answer. The voice took pity.

"People say that you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one. I hope someday you'll find them." He looked again, and blinked. "Do you want to die?" The voice asked him again. He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Let me live."


	11. Fairy Tale of New York

**Fairy Tale of New York**

It was Christmas Eve, and Galileo had found himself thrown into what was fondly known as the 'drunk tank' yet again. It was the fifth time in three months that he had been arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. He often wondered if they only arrested him when he was off his head because they could no longer arrest him for being a Bohemian. Not since the laws of the world had changed anyway. The people liked their music; and the corporation was all about fulfilling the needs of the people; it was how they made their money after all. He gave out a manic giggle, rolling on to his side slightly, listening to the dim songs of the radio, pumping out tinny festive songs. An old man sitting across from him sighed in a melancholy manner, making Galileo raise his eyebrows in questioning. The man shrugged, "won't see another one," he offered as an explanation, leaning his head back so it touched the cold stone of the wall behind him. Galileo watched as the man sighed once more, mumbling the words to a song, something rare and sweet, which tugged at your heartstrings. Galileo lay down on the cushioned seat, turning so that he faced the wall, and closed his eyes, images of one person swimming around his mind.

The next morning, when he had been released from the tank, he looked around the city he had only lived in a short while, that was, before the world had changed for the better. _God,_' he thought with a smile, _'I'm a lucky one.'_ He had come up trumps against all the odds, and he believe they were eighteen to one against him. It had been nearly two whole years since he … since they had managed to bring back that glorious music that now filled the air, and he was sure that the coming year was for him and Scaramouche. Speaking of the guitar babe … she came into his view as he approached the Heartbreak Hotel, standing just outside it. "So, Happy Christmas," he said, leaning over her slightly, his breath still smelling like the alcohol he had consumed less than 12 hours before. "I love you baby," he added in his still drunken stupor, "I c'n see a better time," he informed her. "When all our dreams come true."

Scaramouche rolled her eyes; she had heard all this before and had grown tired of it. She stumbled slightly at the tall, lean frame of Galileo collapsed against her slightly, letting out another manic giggle. She bit back a sigh, recognising the giggle for what it was, and asking herself silently why she continued to stay, and not move to one of the big cities stateside, like she had always dreamed of when she was younger... "They've got cars big as bars, they've got rivers of gold," she muttered slightly, remembering the old films set in those cities, making them seem like the most glamorous places to be on the whole of Planet Mall. She shook her head, "but the wind goes right through you, it's no place for the old," she muttered, giving one of many reasons she used for staying. Galileo blinked, looking round at her through hazy drink goggled eyes. "When you first took my hand, on that warm summer's eve, you promised me, the rock world was waiting for me," she accused him lightly; slightly bitter at the way he was now. "You were handsome," she spat. He was still handsome, but the drinking and the drugs had made him paler, the bags under his eyes seeming more pronounced.

"You were pretty," Galileo shot back, "Queen of GaGa City!" he cried, standing and opening his arms wide, stumbling forward as he did so. Scaramouche found herself rolling her eyes, knowing that his statement wasn't true, but finding herself oddly touched by it all the same. She knew when he was talking of though. He was talking of that first gig, all the way back then at Wembley, right after they had found the instruments, the right Bohemians being attracted to their instrument with some sort of supernatural force that it had to be seen to have been believed

"When the band finished playing they howled out for more," they both muttered at the same moment - it was largely agreed amongst all the Bohemians that the Dreamer, and the Guitar Babe had a talent for this, though they were pretty sure that neither realised it. "Sinatra was singing," Sinatra was the male Bohemian who had picked up the bass, and could play it with a sort of swing in his step that no other Bohemian, no matter how hard they tried, could ever manage to recreate. "All the drunks, they were singing, we kissed on a corner then danced through the night." A fond smiled crawled over Galileo's face, as the faint sounds of the infamous Old' Khashoggi's choir - jokingly named that as Khashoggi himself was younger than people believed - sang out, accompanied by the ringing of bells, to signal the holiday.

Scaramouche would have smiled, but the stink of the stale alcohol clung to Galileo was burning the inside of her nose, making her feel quite sick. "You're a bum," she told him, "you're a punk."

"You're an old slut on junk," Galileo shot back; obviously not aware of anything that was going on. "Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed," he added, a glare accompanying his words. Scaramouche found herself glaring back at him, furious with his words, even if she was aware that he was too off his head to comprehend what he was saying.

"You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot," she yelled at him, moving quickly so he fell flat on the ground. He looked up at her with wide eyes, the impact seemingly jolting him into soberness. Seemingly. "Merry Christmas your arse," she spat at him, still angry, "I pray God it's our last!" She finished a fire in her eyes, turning on her heel, stomping away. She could still here the sounds of Old Khashoggi's choir mixing with the loud ringing, and momentarily wondered if things had been better, would she be enjoying the sounds, instead of hating it.

"I could have been someone," she could hear Galileo saying, and felt a twist inside her stomach. Yes, it was true that they were a popular band, but they were never worldwide. The people may have wanted their music, but Globalsoft were quick to bring out their own tinny version of it.

"Well … so could anyone!" she couldn't help but snap it at him. She sighed, looking down at the floor sadly, though woe betide anyone who suggested she was. "You took my dreams from me," she told him softly, causing him to sit up a little straighter, focusing purely on her, "when I first found you." Scaramouche seemed deeply sad about this, and Galileo found himself wandering over to her, wrapping his arms around her, as he stood behind her.

"I kept them with me, babe," he said to her softly, dropping a soft kiss on her neck, "I put them with my own," He let out a noise that was halfway between his manic giggle, and a loud sob. "Can't make it all alone, I've built my dreams around you," he whispered, sounding scared of the prospect of being on his own, without her. Scaramouche turned round to face him, laying one hand on his cheek gently. He drank, and he took stuff that Scaramouche wouldn't even look at twice, but he was still undeniably sweet when he wanted to be. Smiling softly at him, she moved her hand to his shoulder, as he took her other in his. And listening to the sounds of Old Khashoggi's Choir, who were still singing 'Galway Bay,' and the bells ringing out for Christmas Day, they whirled around, dancing silently, as the snow fell around them.


	12. Bohemians in Wonderland

It was someone's birthday. At least, I think it was someone's birthday. From what I know of round here, that is what I've been told, I can only guess. It doesn't really take a lot for them to throw a party round here. It doesn't really matter what the reason for it was, it just happened that I was there during the middle of a fancy dress party. This was breaking too many rules, doing this, but I had to. It's not the best of defences in the world, but it's true.

I moved through the crowds with ease, no one thinks to look twice at me. It's refreshing, being somewhere where they aren't overly concerned with security, and just want to have a good time. Though, at the same time, it does present a few worries, but that wasn't the point of my being there. I wasn't even meant to be there remember, I was breaking a list of rules about 10 miles long at least.

Every Bohemian seemed to be at the party. Where they all managed to get costumes from, I'm not entirely sure. They're resourceful, I'm pretty sure they can find whatever they put their minds to finding. They were bright and colourful, and all of them containing that … that edge that was just built in to the very dirt of what it was to be a Bohemian. There were angels and demons, princesses and princes, characters from the past and the present, all together in a hive of activity.

Two people, a couple, caught my eye right away, standing out if only because they had dressed as possibly the most unlikeliest of couples - but it fitted them perfectly. The Mad Hatter, and Alice Pleasance Liddell.

"You know," the Hatter said, a grin on his face as he looks down at his Alice, "I'm pretty sure they weren't the actual couple in the book." There was a pause, and I couldn't help but laugh, as his nose scrunched up in concentration. "I don't even think those books had a couple in them," he said slowly. Alice grinned back up at him, her arms worming their way around his neck, her leaning in so that their noses were touching.

"My dear Hatter," I heard her say, her voice low enough so that only he could hear. "I could care less to what the others may think," she grinned widely, kissing the tip of his nose softly. "Besides you are, my dear, as mad as a hatter," she said, fond teasing clear in her voice, "and I wouldn't wish you any other way."

"You're expectedly sweet tonight," the Hatter commented with a grin, not really minding it at all from what I could tell. Alice leaned up, whispering something into his ear which made him turn a bright red, but his grin grew.

"They're disgustingly sweet, ain't they?" A somewhat drunken voice spoke from my side. I fought back the grin that threatened to appear, knowing it was too familiar, too wrong for here. "Makes yeh wanna vomit." My grin returned, just slightly. Typical really, I break so many rules to see this person, and she's dressed as a Playboy bunny.

I'm not even surprised by it anymore.

"I don't know," I replied in an even enough tone. "It's nice, to see people that happy. It doesn't happen often enough."

"Still don't mean I wanna see it." I laughed softly.

"Yeah, I know," I said, looking to the ground before looking up, knowing that it was getting to a point where if I stayed here any longer, I would be stuck here. She frowned up at me, an odd look on her face.

"Don't I kno…"

"It was nice to see you again," I said quickly, cutting her off. It wouldn't do for her to recognise me. Not yet anyway. A smaller smile crossed my lips. "Take care of yourself," I told her, turning and leaving. She stared, I know she did, it's what I would have done.

" … Yeah …"


	13. Pop Rocks

Galileo realised that being thrust so suddenly into the limelight definitely had its negative connotations. And yes, he did know what the meaning of that word was, just because he wasn't technically minded like most his age didn't mean he was a complete moron, despite what some people might think. He'd been getting a lot of it recently, from the newcomers who flitted around the Heartbreak as though they had personally bought the place. They spoke down to him, treated him as someone who wasn't clever enough to join in their conversations, someone who was only good for singing and nothing more. Galileo considered, at one point, finding all the invites he had received from various divisions of Globalsoft. Hand written invites, offering him jobs that no one got offered that early in life. It wasn't that he was stupid; his aptitude tests were off the chart, it was just that his life path didn't go in the direction most people went.

But that wasn't the point that he was getting at, which was that he would have preferred anything other than what he was seeing.

The ones - males mostly - who referred to him as an idiot, flitting around the Heartbreak Hotel. Flitting around Scaramouche, oozing an easy charm that could side step even the infamous Iron Maiden, who'd been President of those United Kingdoms of Britain back in the later 20th century. They flirted with everyone in the Heartbreak, muttering things about the people Galileo considered as family that made his jaw clench, and his hands curl into fists. But it was their looks at Scaramouche … Galileo wasn't used to this whole relationship thing yet, and he knew he made mistakes more often than he got things right, but Scaramouche loved him regardless. He didn't understand why, and though everyone would tell him he was being a complete an utter idiot, but there was a fear that one day, she'd wake up and realise what a complete loser she was with. And then he'd lose her, and she'd go for someone so much better than him.

He shook his head furiously at the thought, wondering if this was Meat meant about having more confidence in himself. He was constantly putting himself down, but it was hard to get out of the habit of a lifetime. He was the Dreamer, for rock's sake! How could a complete loser be the one person able to get the right words, the words that brought back the glory of rock and roll? He _knew_ this, reminded himself of this every time he got pessimistic. It was just unfortunate that his mind like torturing him. He looked up, seeing one of the more 'edgy' looking guys bringing Scaramouche over a fruity alcoho-pop. He snorted slightly, smirking at her brief look of disgust at the guy, who gave a sickly smile in return. Scaramouche narrowed her eyes slightly, a sinister smile settling on her face.

God, he loved that smile. So did the others apparently. Galileo scowled. Scaramouche looked up over the head of her new admirers, finding him, and smiling so much more sincerely than she had to any of the boys who had drooling over her for the two hours thirty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds. Not that Galileo was counting or anything.

He stood, making his way over with his fists shoved as deep as he could manage into his jean pockets. A few of Scaramouche's admirers threw him scathing looks, but Galileo wisely ignored them, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. Scaramouche looked up.

"Alright Gazza?"

"Alright," he nodded in response, looking round at the guys, counting them silently. He wondered if Scaramouche felt the same stab of jealously every time his fan girls took it upon themselves to drape themselves all over him after a gig. He didn't really get the appeal of that, he was hot and sticky and in desperate need of a shower after most of their gigs, why would anyone want to drape themselves over him? … Apart from Scaramouche's shower fetish, of course.

"Gonna move then boys?" Scaramouche asked, well, more commanded the boys who surrounded her. They were quick to comply to her wishes, and Galileo sat down beside her quickly. Some of the guys left, leaving the one who'd bought Scaramouche the drink - which sat untouched. It was then that Galileo began wishing that his girlfriend was a little more open to public displays of affection than she was, as he thought it might send some of this guy running.

"So, like I was saying…" the edgy looking guy began, with Galileo tuning it out almost automatically. He looked down, inching his hand over to touch pinkies with Scaramouche, who smiled, just slightly, but it reached her eyes.

"Hey there girl, yeah you know who you are, you walked into my life and then you stole my heart," Galileo sang softly, just loud enough for Scaramouche to hear it. Her smile flitted back on her to face, as Galileo covered her hand with his. "I think it's those eyes that keep killing us guys, and for your sinister smile the boys go wild," he stopped, licking his lips slightly. "Baby it's those things you do that make me know I've fallen for you."

By this time the edgy guy realised that he was being ignored, and he didn't much appreciate it. He glared at Galileo, who had interlocked his fingers with Scaramouche's. "I really don't think …"

"Hey there girl you got me going again," Galileo gave a soft side grin, "don't bother with the other boys I'm better than them."

"Couldn't agree more Gazza," Scaramouche cut in quickly, a devious smile on her face. "I mean, pathetic really. All these boys drooling over someone who's quite happy in her own relationship thanks very much," she glared pointedly. "I mean, self obsessed arsehole, or stuck up his own arse self obsessed arsehole," she added, her glare growing slightly. "I think its obvious which one is the better choice." The guy glared standing and sulking off. Scaramouche allowed herself a satisfied smirk. "Now," she said, turning her widest - and apparently most seductive - smile on Galileo, "why don't you show me just how much you're _better _than the other boys?"


	14. Soundtrack to My Life

_**A/N:**__ So, another We Will Rock You fic, this time based off that music player challenge that__'__s been floating around. I chose to focus in on dear Galileo Figaro, as I do have the most fun writing for him. Some of the stories are pre show, some are post show, some are during the show, and some are slightly alternative version on Galileo himself. I wrote which lyrics inspired each story, and none of the stories are connected in any way to each other. So, read, enjoy, and please review telling me what you think of my efforts.

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**Soundtrack to My Life**

_**1. Thnksfrthmmrs - Fall Out Boy**  
It__'__s always cloudy except for when you look into the past _

He was a child of another time. At least, that was the only explanation his young mind could come up with as to why he seemed to fit badly in this technological futuristic world. He stood out badly amongst the clean white children, all with their blindingly white smiles and equally blindingly uniforms. He stood out horribly on the bright lit up streets, a dark blot on an otherwise perfect town. At school, they were always told – as often as they could be told - that it never used to be like this, that before the great Globalsoft had saved the planet from destruction, all was darkness and fear, with people being too scared to step out of their front door for fear of what may happen to them if they did. It was a dark and dangerous time, and they should be grateful that they didn't need to live in those terrible times. But … that didn't fit with what he dreamt.

His dreams of the past broke through the cloudy world he live in, shining technicolour in the monotonous black and white in which he lived. It was his dreams that he wanted to live in, not this world. He wanted to go back to those times, even if they were as dangerous as his History HoloTeacher insisted they were. It had to be better than what he lived in surely. Why would he dream of such glorious things, with such beautiful noises, if none of it was real?

His dreams had to be real. They just had to be.

* * *

_**2. The Party Song - Blink 182**  
Well I did if I loved but I never dreamed there  
Would be someone there who would catch my attention  
I wasn't out searching for love or affection_

When he was arrested, he was sure that that was the end. He had expected it, knew it was coming, and had even begun preparing months before it actually happened. For once in his life, he knew he was right about something connected to himself, and he couldn't help but feel a small sense of smugness about the fact. Of course, it occurred rather quickly to him that he was feeling smug about having guessed he was to be arrested, and quite possibly killed, which led him to an odd state of accepted morbidity. He never expected to come out of there alive, let alone with his mind intact, well, as intact as he assumed it could be.

He especially never expected to meet someone in there.

He had never believed in love, had never experienced it in his life to know if it was real anyway. He was the hated child, the bastard who ruined his parents' lives and the hellion who didn't even express the smallest hint of sadness at their deaths. It was expected, hoped, that he would live fast, die young, and leave nothing of himself behind. He resigned himself to this, knowing his insanity doomed him anyway. When he was arrested, he was fine with it. Sure it was the end; sure he could escape the hate, but... There was a small amount of light, in the form of a disenchanted, disaffected, moody, loud, angry girl. It wasn't love at first sight, but it was enough to interest him. She was different, like him, but without the insanity. He hoped without the insanity anyway.

It wasn't love at first sight, but it was close enough to it.

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_**3. I**__**'**__**d Do Anything For Love (But I Won**__**'**__**t Do That) - Meat Loaf**  
Some days I pray for silence, and some days I pray for soul  
Some days I just pray to the God of Sex and Drums and Rock 'N Roll  
Some nights I lose the feeling, and some nights I lose control_

The dreams consumed him; always there singing songs in his head and the voices were forever talking to him. They never stopped, meaning he never stopped, and he was so tired of the constant, endless chatter. He had tried everything he could to control them, to no great effect, Pills dulled them for a while, drink made him zone out for long enough to gain some small scrap of peace, but nothing lasted forever, or for as long as he would have liked. Because he didn't want rid of them on a permanent basis. No, he liked these dreams, the sounds, the voices and the noises. They made him feel like part of something bigger than himself, and he needed that, in his world of isolation.

There would, on occasion, be extended periods of time – in reality never longer than three days, but they felt like an eternity – where he would be dreamless, and have none of the sounds, voices, or noises. Those times drove him crazy, every second stretching itself out into forever. Those were the times that he feared, as he was never sure what he would do. Hearing voices was one thing, he could deal with that. But to have nothing in his head? No comforting tone crooning softly to him at the most inappropriate time?

He feared those times, because that was when he lost control. Those nights he sat up, a small child yet again, terrified of what monsters were lurking in the shadows.

* * *

_**4. Here I Go Again - Whitesnake**  
And here I go again on my own  
Goin' down the only road I've ever known,  
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone_

His foster family had kicked him out as soon as he'd reached the right age. No one wanted a freak around, who knows that they might catch? He was on his own, no protection from the hateful glances, the hurtful phrase, the rocks, that were constantly thrown at him. He shouldn't be used to this cruelty, but the sad fact of his life was that it was normal for him. There hadn't been a single say within his memory that he could remember a word being spoken to him that was truly kind. So being alone wasn't a huge disaster, neither was being on the streets. He'd been on them for two years before he was caught by authorities, and forced into that house. Truth be told, he would have much preferred the streets, with its cold and harsh truths, to the spiteful glares and dangerous words he experienced in that house.

The streets were a true home to him; he was alone there and preferred it to be that way. It was interesting really; he was a solitary figure in a world where everyone was meant to be your friend, where popularity was a key to succeeding in life, where a life of anonymity was worse than a life of poverty. His life, unsurprisingly, was both. He dreamed of it being different, of rows upon rows of people, all happy, all chanting his name, with bright lights overhead bathing him in their light, a figure moving forward to embrace him. He often woke up at that point.

He gathered his things without problems from that house, and left without comment, back on the streets within a few minutes.

He felt like he was home.

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_**5. Just A Girl - No Doubt**  
Oh...I've had it up to here!  
The moment that I step outside  
So many reasons  
For me to run and hide  
I can't do the little things I hold so dear  
'Cause it's all those little things  
That I fear_

He was scared of the world, and the world was scared of him. He couldn't leave cross over the threshold without being aware of the fact that everything about him was an offence to everyone and everything that surrounded him. He was a generated anomaly, and he detested it. Why should he be hated for an incident so small as his birth? He was forced to go to school, and every step he took in the place, he was looking around him, wary of what could happen, knowing that he was existing purely on borrowed time.

He couldn't move for the fear, and that terrified him.

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_**6. I'm Going Slightly Mad - Queen**  
Are they trying to tell you something?  
You're missing that one final screw  
You're simply not in the pink my dear  
To be honest you haven't got a clue _

He had begun to type up everything he could remember from his dreams, wanting to see if there was any connecting feature whatsoever. The smallest hint that he wasn't simply someone with a diseased mind, like his doctors often told him, would be enough to make him content, just the smallest hint. His fingers danced nervously over the keyboard of his laptop, typing with an unexpected grace from the boy with the twitches. The words came rushing out, little phrases, using full words instead of the generally accepted net speak that everyone typed in. It would only sully the meaning of these words to use that type of grammar.

He had lost all sense of punctuation, something which he was normally very meticulous over, typing as fast as his fingers would allow him, desperate to get the words out, wanting to see them in black and white characters on the paper thin screen in front of him. He strung them together, collecting like phrase with like phrase, finishing off lines that had bothered him for long enough. With the words in front of him, he was able to find the connections he was looking for, for some of the words and phrases at the very least. When he was finally finished, he sat back, staring at the screen, willing the words to unveil their secret to him. Wanting to find the smallest clue to his existence. He could find none, and his head flopping forward, hitting the enter key on the keyboard, causing the document to scroll down to the very bottom of what he typed out. One phrase shone out:

**Seek salvation in the place of living rock. A bright, bright star will show the way. Go to where the Champions played.

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**

_**7. Time Is Running Out - Muse**  
Our time is running out  
Our time is running out  
You can't push it underground  
You can't stop it screaming out  
How did it come to this?_

It had been quiet for about a week before the Killer Queen had been able to strike back. The Secret Police flooded into the repaired Heartbreak Hotel, and the Bohemians fled. He was grabbing on to her wrist, pulling her along behind him in a way that was all too familiar to the both. They had never thought any of this would happen, at least, they had never admitted to thinking it. Truth was that this was the thing that every Bohemian feared, he possibly more than the others because he knew it would be his fault.

The screams echoed throughout the tunnel, the only thing other than their own panting that they could hear as they ran. Well, as he ran, pulling her along at his speed, aware that he was possibly hurting her, but knowing she would say nothing, but would be grateful for it. Neither of them wanted to be alone, not now they'd found each other. Neither of them could bear that feeling of being alone, not again.

So they ran, she gripping on to him just as hard as he was gripping on to her, if not harder, both wondering if there was a way out of it this time, and if this really was the end.

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_**8. Bat Out Of Hell - Meat Loaf**  
And I know that I'm damned if I never get out  
And maybe I'm damned if I do  
But with any other beat I got left in my heart  
You know I'd rather be damned with you_

He had wondered why he hadn't apologised yet, even though his mind was screaming at him to do so. Or perhaps it was his heart, though it was rare that the two agreed with each other. Every time he had worked it up to apologise, she would glare at him, and he would be angry yet again. Besides which, talking would take up needed energy, they could only really walked during the day, as it was too dark in the night to navigate their way around. She would sleep, as he would sit, staring out into the cold air of the night, restless, angry, and hurt.

He didn't understand why she hadn't worked it out yet, why he had wanted her to stay in safety at the van. It was nothing to do with her being a woman, but it was everything to do with her being the woman he loved. It would kill him to see her hurt because he wasn't strong enough to fight for himself. He sat back, his fingers brushing against her legs slightly, causing her to shift in her sleep. He sighed. Why couldn't she see he was damned? That by pissing her off, he was trying to get her to leave, make her go somewhere safe that wasn't around him.

He may be damned, but he wasn't going to let her become damned with him. He loved her too much for that

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_**9. Homecoming - Green Day**__  
Somebody get me out of here__  
Anybody get me out of here  
Somebody get me out of here  
Get me the fuck right out of here_

He screamed in his laser cell, forcing his hands against them, hearing the skin on his palms sizzle at the contact. He pulled them back, looking down to see the bright red skin already blistering. It didn't stop him from trying again, this time getting throw back, landing heavily on the floor, as the voltage of the laser had been turned up. He looked up, an inhuman snarl on his face, screaming words out at his guards, curses and phrases that came from his dreams. The guards had stepped back, scared of this one mad boy who could so easily change the world if he knew. They couldn't look away from him if they tried, there was something hypnotic about him, a presence of sorts that made you want to watch him, to see what he would do next.

He circled, a caged tiger pondering its next kill. The guards on duty hoped it wouldn't be them.

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_**10. **__**Different World - Iron Maiden**  
Tell me what you can hear  
And then tell me what you see  
Everybody has a different way  
To view the world_

They sat for a while, when they were done, the blanket covering them enough, and spoke softly. His voice, to her secret delight, rumbled through him, sending a shiver of warmth down her from her position curled up next to him, head resting on his chest. There was a prevalent musical quality to his voice, and she doubted he knew it was there, slowly hypnotizing those he spoke to, making them want to hear more. He told her of his dreams, and though she feigned boredom, she was interested, amazed even, that he could dream of such beautiful things when life had been nothing but cruel to him. At least, if the faint scars decorating his arms were any judge as to his quality of life before their first meeting.

Her own view of the world would upset him, she noted silently, for it was dark when his was light. It summed them up well; he was a dreamer, the Dreamer, while she was the realist. Or was it that she was forced to be the realist, to allow him to Dream? No, that was too cruel a thought for someone who had lived his life following his dreams. She sighed, curling into him tighter, enjoying listening to his stories of the times when Rock was allowed, and how beautiful it all sounded. Of course, she knew the reality of that time, of the wars and the hatred, but still, even in the darkest point of those times, there was something to strive for, there was hope.

And hope was their birthright, so why shouldn't she cling to it? Even if her hope was in the form of a slightly insane man. To her, he embodied everything that hope was meant to show, and she wanted to see the world through his eyes of hope, instead of her cynical eyes


End file.
